Say My Name
by NeverNik
Summary: During the Final Battle, Hermione disappears. Or so everyone thinks. She's been hit by a curse that's turned her mute and changed her appearance. All alone in a world where she used to be known and loved, how will she break the curse? How will she even survive? And will the man, who's been in love with her all this time, lose hope?


**A/N: This story was written for Strictly Dramione's Valentine's Day Smut Fest 2018. Rated M for explicit sex scenes. Warning for offensive language.**

 **I own the plot, but J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe.**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

 **13** **th** **February 2003**

In the Leaky Cauldron, a young woman sat quietly at a table by herself. She nursed a single cup of tea, which the landlord noted was stone cold. Luckily it wasn't a busy time, otherwise she would have been turfed out to make way for customers with Galleons rather than Knuts.

Like those at the table next to her. Upstanding war heroes, amply rewarded for their selfless acts of bravery and courage during the Second Wizarding War. Messrs Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Fine young men.

Such a shame about Hermione Granger, the third member of the Golden Trio. No-one knows what happened to her. One minute she was fighting fiercely in the final battle, the next – she was gone.

Harry accepted the landlord's proffered drinks with a smile and passed one of the Firewhiskys to Ron. 'Please try to cheer up, mate,' he urged.

Ron shrugged morosely and leaned his chin on his hand. 'It's been nearly five years,' he groaned. 'What could have happened to her?'

The young woman paused with the cup at her lips.

'I dunno, mate,' said Harry softly. 'It breaks my heart to think of her out there alone. Godric knows where.'

 _Look to your right!_ the woman screamed. In her head.

'We've tried everything to find her. But it's no use.' Harry placed his hand on Ron's arm. 'Face it, mate. Hermione's gone.'

The woman's teacup rattled in its saucer.

Ron sighed. 'Yeah, I guess you're right.' He finished his drink and stood up. 'I need to get home to Lavender. The baby twins are driving her up the wall.'

Harry smiled. 'Ah, you love them.'

Ron grinned. 'Chips off the old block, mate.'

They left the pub, trading war stories about their children.

The young woman stared at the scarred marks on the table until her tears returned to where they came from.

Then she got up, pulled her hood over her head, and left.

* * *

 **2** **nd** **May 1998**

Hermione had been cursed.

She was hit by a complicated one during the Final Battle. She wasn't sure by who, but she suspected it was Lucius Malfoy. He took an _Avada_ straight to the heart shortly after, and left this world for whatever pit of hell would consider taking him.

It knocked her out. When she came to, the first thing she discovered was that her wand was missing. The next was that she couldn't speak. The third, when she looked into a puddle, was that she looked completely different. Straight, honey-blonde hair replaced her brown curls. Brown eyes were green. Her skin was pale gold, her bones felt lighter, and the face that stared in shock at her reflection was one she'd never seen before.

She tried to get help. She grabbed the arms of all her surviving friends and teachers, but they just looked through her and palmed her off to someone else.

Dumped outside the school gates, she took stock. It was pretty quick – all she had were the ill-fitting battle-weary clothes she stood up in. That was it. No money. No wand. No voice. No identity.

Hogsmeade was too small. No-one could - or would - help. So she Flooed to Diagon Alley.

She wore her shoes to shreds going from place to place, begging for work with her voiceless voice and dirty clothes. Finally, one night - starving and exhausted - she hit rock bottom. A man gave her enough Sickles to suck his cock so she could buy some toast, a cup of tea and a bed for the night at the Leaky Cauldron.

Sitting carefully on the bed, she looked at her reflection in the room's mirror. A stranger's face stared back, emotionless. The stranger who sucked the cock of a stranger. Let him burst in her throat. Made her swallow the clinging, sticky load down.

Her stomach heaved.

She curled up into a ball and recited transfiguration spells in her head until exhaustion overtook her.

* * *

 **13** **th** **February 2003**

Draco Malfoy paced his apartment's living room. Up and down. Up and down.

All damn day, the date taunted him. Valentine's Day Eve, if such a pathetic thing existed. Earlier today he'd snapped at his secretary that Valentine's Day was just a Muggle marketing gimmick designed to flog cheap stationery with melodramatic poetry and offload miles of unusable red crepe paper onto a dim-witted public.

He went back to his office when she started sniffling. Another black mark against Draco-the-turncoat-son-of-the-evil-bastard Lucius Malfoy.

Never mind that he'd been with the Order of the Phoenix since Herm–

He glanced at his hand. A tumbler of Firewhisky was in it.

Good.

He hurled it into the fireplace. But it didn't make enough of an impact to drive Hermione from his mind.

Damn it! After almost five years, why hasn't his overwhelming, obsessive desire for Hermione Granger started to wane?

What if it never does?

He stopped pacing.

He needed a distraction. The best he could get.

Loathing himself, he wrote a terse message and summoned his owl.

* * *

'Oi! Elise! Make yerself indecent, yer've an out-call!'

Hermione closed the book she was reading by the windowsill – there to catch a glimpse of the moon behind the scudding clouds.

She banged twice on her door to let the Madam of Knockturn Alley's only, and therefore most successful, brothel know she'd received the message.

The blowjob she'd conducted in exchange for a meal and a bed was an omen. Now, she sold her body to men night after night after night. Sometimes she knew them. Sat next to them at school. Were the fathers or brothers of her friends.

When, five years ago, Hermione turned up at the brothel cold, starving and exhausted, the Madam demanded her name. With quill and parchment, she wrote 'Elise' – the name of the sister in the fairy tale where her six brothers had been turned into swans by their evil stepmother. To free them, she had to make six shirts of nettles and not make a sound for seven years.

No-one got the reference.

Hermione touched up the make-up that made her eyes and cheekbones pop, and brushed her long blonde hair until it gleamed. Her midnight-blue minidress clung to her lithe body exactly as it should. Her over-the-knee stiletto suede boots shrouded her legs. She took her cloak and wrapped it around her bold, beautiful body.

When she arrived at the Madam's poky office and received the client's address, she turned hot, then cold, then hot again.

It was him.

* * *

 **Approximately five years ago**

Convincing Draco Malfoy to turn away from the Death Eaters, his family and everything he knew cost Hermione blood, sweat, and many, many tears. But she kept trying. Because every time he looked down his nose at her, scorned her and spat 'Mudblood' in her face - his silver eyes locked with hers. Long enough for her to keep trying.

But the disbelief she faced when she told the Order she'd turned one of the enemy! The abuse Ron flung at her when Draco appeared at their Headquarters in Grimmauld Place!

Slut!

Whore!

Treasonous, traitorous bitch!

Enraged, Draco reached for his wand, but Hermione loosed a blistering verbal attack on not just Ron, but everyone who looked at Draco sideways. She reduced them to metaphorical rubble, then stormed out of the room, her hair practically alight with indignation.

He found her in the kitchen at the stove, furiously stirring something.

His hand shook as he placed it on her shoulder.

She stilled.

'I won't let you down, Hermione.'

It was the first time he called her by her first name.

She turned and looked at him. 'I know,' she said, trying her best to smile, but tears fell instead, and he drew her into his arms.

He ran his hand down her hair. It was soft and warm, smelling faintly of apricots. Nothing like what he expected.

* * *

 **13** **th** **February 2003**

Draco took another slug of Firewhisky when his Floo announced the arrival of his paid companion for the evening. When he reached the lobby, she was stubbornly hanging her cloak on a hook, much to the distress of his house elf, who was trying to do it for her.

A corner of his lip turned up. Just like...

The whore turned and faced him, staying still as he travelled a slow circle around her, inspecting the goods he'd purchased.

He nodded.

She looked nothing like Hermione at all.

(Once, the Madam sent over a girl with brown corkscrew curls and shapely curves. She was unceremoniously tossed back into the Floo, along with an extremely rude message for her employer.)

'Your name?' Draco asked the woman.

She put a hand to her mouth and passed him a small card.

 _My name is Elise. I am mute._

 _I can understand everything you say._

 _Tell me how I can please you._

His eyebrow raised at the last line.

'Elise?'

She nodded.

'I presume that's not your actual name.'

She cast her eyes to the floor.

'I once read about an Elise in a fairy tale – a Muggle book,' he clarified, turning her card over in his fingers. 'Anyway. Do you want a drink?'

He missed the flare of hope in her eyes.

She gave him that book. Five years ago.

* * *

Draco was nearly at the living room when he realised his guest had gone AWOL. Retracing, he found her in his library – a small effort by Malfoy Manor's standards, but since he vowed he'd never set foot in that shit-pit of misery again, it would suffice.

Hermione was entranced, staring at the shelves with a smile that made her face come alive. She reached out to pluck a book – then, guiltily, she looked over her shoulder at the cold, beautiful man leaning against the doorway.

'I once knew someone who would do just as you did whenever she entered a library,' he murmured. 'Everything else could go hang if she had a book to devour.'

She fished a Muggle notebook and pencil out the top of one of her boots, which made Draco blink. She scribbled something, then showed it to him.

 _May I ask her name?_

His face hardened, and she swallowed fearfully.

'Hermione,' he said tonelessly.

Her chest heaved.

'Anyway. I'm not paying you to read,' he snapped. 'Do you want a drink, or shall we go straight to the bedroom?'

She mimed drinking from a glass.

'Follow me.'

* * *

It took Hermione four years to find a way to break the curse. And, of course, it wasn't easy, fuck you very much, Lucius. Someone had to say her name three times in her presence, but she couldn't give them a clue, written or otherwise, about it. To try would cause her unbearable pain.

She'd shadowed Harry and Ron in the hopes they could break the curse, but it never happened.

The other men she once knew in her Hogwarts days couldn't do it, either, although they called out all sorts of things when they orgasmed inside her. Or over her.

Could Draco break the curse?

She began to pray.

* * *

She followed him to his sparse, spacious living room, where a fire burned in a grate. She noted the glass shards surrounding it. Every lamp was turned low.

He sloshed Firewhisky into a couple of tumblers and held one out to her.

She took it and sat gingerly in the armchair he indicated, and her body fizzed as her fingers touched his. Looking at his startled eyes, she could tell he felt it, too.

He's become so... _beautiful,_ she thought. Like a marble statue of one of the great orators, or a Roman general.

And just as hard, just as unapproachable.

Why?

Who did this?

She raised her glass in a silent toast. He followed suit, then sat down, assessing her.

'You're quite the intrigue,' he remarked. 'Is it because you can't talk? So different from others of your kind.'

She rolled her eyes before she remembered her place, and he smirked.

'So like her,' he murmured.

Say my name, she begged silently.

But he didn't.

* * *

Draining her drink, she gracefully rose and slowly walked to him, one long leg in front of the other. She knelt before him, parting his legs as she went. She ran her thumbs along the inseam of his expensive trousers, feeling his strong muscles ripple at her touch.

She looked up, but if she was expecting a reaction, he didn't play by the rules. He merely took another sip of his drink.

She undid his belt and trousers, freeing his semi-erect cock. She tugged at his pants, and he lifted his hips.

She grasped his large, heavy cock, warm against her cool hand. Stroking it, she leaned over and parted her lips – and drew one of his balls into her mouth with her tongue.

'Shit…' Draco wasn't expecting that. Gods alive, that felt…

The testicle fell from her mouth, and she engulfed the other one, swirling her tongue around it. When she was done, he was harder than he'd been in…

… a damn long time.

Her devilish tongue licked his cock like an iced lolly, flicking through the slit at his head. She sped up her strokes and engulfed the top third of his cock in her mouth, sucking hard. His legs began to shake.

'Dear fucking gods…'

She held out her hand, palm up. Mystified, he placed his tumbler on it. She took a mouthful from it, handed it back, and sank her mouth down on his cock again.

The effect of the cool liquid swirling around his shaft was electric, and his hips snapped up, forcing more of his cock into her mouth. She fucked his mouth lewdly, the alcohol sloshing in her mouth and around his cock, then drew back and swallowed the alcohol. He watched the muscles of her throat move, imagining she was swallowing his come. He released a shaky breath.

She smiled - then plunged down his cock in one go, right to his balls.

'Fucking hell!' he ground out. His tumbler tumbled to the floor and he bucked his hips. She gurgled with his cock deep in her throat, and the lewd sound sent his sanity packing.

He needed to come. As hard and as viciously as possible.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her up to face him. She breathed hard, saliva spilling over her lips.

He leaned over so their eyes were level. 'I'm going to fuck your mouth, Elise,' he gritted. 'Take my cock and swallow my come like the good little whore you are, understand?'

She stilled; then nodded, but scribbled something on her ever-present notebook and held it up.

 _Safe signal: three taps on chair._

'Fine. Now take it.'

She took a breath, and he rammed his cock into her throat.

* * *

 _What the hell is the matter with you?_ half of his head yelled. _Since when do you get off humiliating and abusing women?_

 _She's a whore,_ the other half replied, concentrating only on fucking this woman's wild, wet, tight throat. _She does this for a living – and does it fucking well._

The indecent sounds her throat made...

His balls began to tingle. Gods, yes. He felt his orgasm build through his body.

 _Would you treat Hermione so roughly?_

He stilled for a second, then rage overtook him. _This is not Hermione!_

He gripped Elise's hair and fucked her mouth hard and deep. Over and over and over -

Three agitated taps on the chair arm broke through the red mist swirling in front of his eyes. He let her go and she pulled back, gasping and coughing. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Shit.

But, ever the professional, she returned, stroking him unbelievably fast. She sucked the remainder of his cock so hard, Draco could well believe she was sucking the come straight from his balls. He'd never felt anything so fucking good before.

'Elise…' he warned through clenched teeth – then he orgasmed, spilling his come into her willing mouth as he groaned out his release.

Ravenously she swallowed him, wringing out every last drop. Then she licked around his still-sensitive head, making his legs shake and his breath rattle.

When she was done, she licked her sticky fingers languorously, like a cat.

'Wow,' was the only coherent word Draco could articulate.

* * *

Hermione wrote another note. Her hand shook as she held it up.

 _Do you want me to leave now?_

Gods, no, he thought. 'Not yet. I'm interested to see how else you can pleasure me.' He held up her card.

She smiled. _Shall I undress?_

'By all means.'

She unfolded her legs and leaned back on her elbows, shaking out her hair.

He frowned. Was that faint smell of apricots coming from her hair? He shrugged. Thousands of women must use that shampoo. Just focus on the feast in front of you.

Bending one knee, she slowly drew the zip down and eased her bare, golden leg out. She stretched it out straight before lowering it to the floor and repeating the process with the other. Then she raised her arms and stretched her back, pushing her breasts out, before standing up and facing him.

She grasped the zip at the back of her dress and slowly slid it down. When she peeled the material away from her shoulders and revealed her small bare breasts, Draco found his hand on his cock, stroking it. His other hand unbuttoned his shirt. The room was too hot.

Hermione's dress was at her hips, and she swayed them to encourage the material down.

Draco's heartrate accelerated when it became clear she wasn't wearing panties, either.

She stepped out of her dress, waiting.

'Are you wet, Elise?' he said in a low voice.

She released a shaky breath and nodded. God, yes. You've had that effect on me since before the Final Battle, if I must be honest.

'Show me.'

She sat on the floor before him, leaned back on one arm and spread her long legs. She parted her very pretty pussy with two fingers, showing him how it glistened.

His hand tightened on his erection.

'Touch yourself,' he murmured. 'Look at me and touch yourself.'

Biting her lip, she swirled two fingers around her clitoris, then rubbed it until her legs shook with need. Her breath heavy in her throat, she inched those wet fingers towards the opening of her core, and spread the lips surrounding them.

He was transfixed. His throat was parched. He ached to drink from her.

She plunged her fingers inside, and her body arched off the ground. Over and over she fucked herself - she was so close to coming –

'Don't come now.' He ground the words out.

Her eyes were wild, but she slowed her fingers. In the quiet of the room, he could hear the sound of the slick wetness of her fingers sinking in, pulling out.

Draco was as hard as stone. Right in front of him was a wet and delectable cunt. His for the taking. His mouth watered.

'Touch your breasts,' he ordered.

She lay on her back, legs still spread lewdly – drenched fingers rubbing her clit; her other hand working hard at her nipple.

She squeezed it tight and her body left the floor. Breathing heavily, she pulled her wet fingers from her cunt and put them in her mouth, sucking and licking hungrily.

He wanted those fingers in his mouth. His cock in her cunt.

She pinched both nipples hard, and her body shimmered with the force of her desire.

Enough.

'Get up here and fuck me,' he demanded.

She crawled to him, then pulled herself up onto his lap. Breathing hard, she gripped his cock and brushed the head slowly across her wet, slick flesh –

'Damn it, woman, now!'

He gripped her hips and pulled Elise down onto his cock.

Heaven upon fucking earth…

She was so hot, so wet... her core felt like butter. She ground down on him, moving her hips, fucking him hard. Her eyes were wild with desire; her breath grew harsher. Her cunt grew hotter and wetter.

Draco caught one of her nipples with his mouth and tugged hard. Her body spasmed and she pushed her breasts towards him, gripping his hair to keep him in place.

'Damn, Elise,' he panted, drawing breath between sucking her tits and fucking her senseless. 'I could fuck you all night.'

Her cunt clenched around him.

'You gonna come, love?' he whispered against her open mouth.

She nodded desperately, frantically rubbing her clit. Sweat glistened on their bodies.

His body was teetering on the edge of an abyss – he couldn't contain himself anymore. 'Come for me, Elise,' he gritted. 'Take my come.'

Her pussy clamped around his cock like a velvet vice and her body convulsed as she orgasmed. He cried out as he came inside her soaking wet cunt, until she collapsed in his arms and endorphins still had control of his words.

'Oh gods, Hermione,' he breathed, his eyes closed, holding the trembling woman in his arms.

* * *

Twice.

It was too early to thank Godric, but she had hope. The most she'd ever had.

As long as he didn't throw her out.

She _scourgified_ themselves with her wand, a nondescript pine affair. Then she stood in front of him, awaiting his bidding.

Draco rubbed his face with his hands, then slowly stood up, fastening his trousers and belt.

Her heart sank. Don't let me go, she prayed. _Please_ don't let me go.

But instead of going for his shirt, he beckoned her closer.

Heart thumping, she obeyed until she was within a hair's-breadth of his beautiful, half-naked body.

He put a finger beneath her chin and raised it. Their eyes met.

His lips descended on hers, and she experienced the most beautiful, most gentle kiss she'd ever known.

They slowly parted. His silver eyes were hypnotic.

'Come with me,' he said.

* * *

His bedroom was upstairs. Its massive window looked out over Diagon Alley, with a window seat beneath it. Hermione's feet carried her over and she looked out, searching for the moon.

Footsteps behind her.

'You like astronomy too, don't you?' he said, uncaring of who might look up and see him half-naked with a fully-naked prostitute.

Elise nodded, and went to reach for her notebook – but she'd left it downstairs.

He saw her agitation. 'It's okay,' he shrugged. 'We'll get by without it.'

She nodded, then drifted around the bedroom, expensively furnished, but as sparse as the room downstairs. She paused at his dresser – then her blood pounded in her ears.

Her photo was on top of it. Locked in a silver frame.

Unthinking, she picked it up – only to have Draco snatch it from her.

'Don't touch my belongings,' he snapped.

She was so close... she had to try. Frantically, she pointed to the picture in his hand.

His eyes narrowed. 'You're awfully curious for a common prostitute,' he said coldly.

She didn't care what he said. He wouldn't deter her. She took a deep breath, pointed at her sternum with one hand, then at the photo with her other.

He frowned. 'What are you' –

She soundlessly screamed in pain, and the world closed in on her.

* * *

Slowly, Hermione came to, blinking her eyes. Draco was leaning over her, gently stroking Elise's hair and looking worried. 'Are you okay?' he asked.

She tested her body before cautiously nodding. Then she realised she was on his bed.

'You scared me.'

She spread her hands in supplication, then let them drop.

'Does this happen often?'

She shook her head. Then, in the silence, she grasped his forearm and traced S-O-R-R-Y-P-H-O-T-O with her finger.

He sighed. 'She's someone I love very much. She's been missing nearly five years. I wish to Godric I could find her. It hurts to even say her name.'

Tears pricking at her eyes, Hermione pushed herself upright and crawled across the bed to where he sat.

'I miss her so fucking much.' His voice cracked.

She climbed between his legs and wrapped her arms around him. Gradually, his arms enclosed her body and he lowered his head to her shoulder.

They sat, lost in their own thoughts.

'She's partly the reason why you're here.' He looked away. 'I didn't want to be alone on this night of all corny nights.'

On his forearm, she traced N-O-T-A-L-O-N-E.

He ran a hand through his hair. 'I, uh, was pretty brutal with you downstairs. I'm not normally like that.'

She shrugged.

He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. 'Can I show you?'

* * *

Hermione broke all the rules. Intimacy with a client just caused trouble and heartache. Suck 'em, fuck 'em, leave 'em – that was the whores' motto.

Yet they've kissed, they've hugged; and now he made her body sing as he made love to her.

Draco broke rules of his own. As he moved inside her body - achingly, wonderfully slowly - he captured her lips with his and looked deep into her green eyes – and pretended they were brown. That the straight blonde hair was brown and curly. That her body was small, and curvy, and perfect.

That the woman he brought to orgasm with his mouth and fingers and cock was Hermione. Not the kind, beautiful stranger beneath him.

Two damaged, broken people finding solace in each other.

* * *

It was late.

Draco invited her to stay until morning. The Madam will have fifty fits, but Hermione didn't give a rat's arse.

Not when she could spend one simple, first and final night with Draco. The beautiful, complicated, tempestuous man she now realised she'd wanted for so long.

She curled up around his warm body, sharing the same pillow. They linked fingers.

This is how they stayed until they fell asleep.

* * *

Hermione was jolted awake. Initially disoriented, she realised she wasn't in her bare room at the brothel. She was in a strange bed.

Draco Malfoy's.

He moved restlessly, his limbs jerking. Sweat beaded his brow and chest.

Concerned, she shook him gently by the shoulder. Nothing happened. He grew more and more agitated until his eyes opened. Looking straight at her like he knew her, he blurted out 'Hermione…?' – then fell back into a more restful slumber.

Dear God, Draco, I love you so much, she breathed over his lips.

She had the presence of mind to climb out of bed before her transformation disturbed him. Dashing to the Library, she felt it take her bones and wrench them this way and that; take her skin and stretch it taut to breaking point. She gritted her teeth against the pain until the blackness welcomed her and made everything feel good again.

* * *

 **14th February 2003**

At dawn, Draco struggled awake.

He looked next to him, expecting to see a blonde woman with green eyes lying next to him.

But no-one was there.

Maybe she had to go back to the brothel, he thought, feeling oddly bereft for missing a whore, of all people.

Movement at the window seat caught his eye, and he sat up.

What.

The.

Fuck?

He rubbed his eyes and stared again.

Either he'd finally gone insane – and let's face it, it's a strong Malfoy trait – or he's actually wished Hermione into existence.

The woman definitely looked like her, wrapped in one of his bedsheets, sitting with her legs up on the window seat, her curly head leaning against the window with her eyes closed – and one of his books on her lap.

The Six Swans.

The blood drained from Draco's face. Oh, my gods, no.

Hermione was E-Elise...

Nude, he crept towards her. Shaking, he reached out a hand and brushed one of the brown-bronze curls.

It felt real.

Smelled faintly of apricots.

This can't be happening…

Her eyes opened, and she smiled.

'Draco!' she croaked, her voice raw with disuse. She held out her arms, and he stumbled into them, hardly daring to believe his eyes, his body, his mind – but she was here.

Hermione was back.

She was home.

'Hermione,' he whispered, trying to stem the tears in his eyes.

Her own cheeks were wet. She held his face and brushed his lips with her thumbs.

'I love it when you say my name...'

Their lips met, and with that touch, they began to live again.

The End.

* * *

 **A.N: One of my rare dramatic stories... I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading xx**


End file.
